Page 106 of Carnal Urges

When I can’t bear it anymore and I sob his name, he commands, “Come.”

He spanks me straight through my orgasm.

I buck and cry out, convulsing helplessly. He’s growling something in Gaelic that sounds filthy, but I can’t concentrate on anything else but the pleasure exploding through my body. The carnal pleasure he’s orchestrating using only his hands.

When I finally return to myself, I’m weak, shaking all over, and feeling emotionally raw.

Declan slides his hand out from between my legs and licks his fingers. He smooths his other hand over my heated bottom. He leans down and kisses my cheek, brushing my hair from my face, and says gruffly, “Who do you belong to?”

“You.”

“Who’s your master?”

“You.”

His voice softens. “And who thinks you’re the most precious angel in the world?”

I swallow, suddenly fighting tears. His voice is so warm and full of feeling, and all at once, I’m overwhelmed. With a hitch in my voice, I whisper, “Y-you.”

His lips brush my ear. “Aye, baby. And all I am is yours now, so take care of this monster you’ve enslaved.”

He pulls me up and into his arms, throwing my bound wrists over his head and crushing me against his body.

We cling to each other silently, both of us breathing hard. I don’t know why I feel such an ache inside my chest, but it’s made a little easier because I know he feels it, too.

He kisses me.

It’s deep and lingering, hot and slow. I sag against him, delirious with afterglow and emotion, and let him take everything he so desperately needs from my lips.

I’m aware on some semiconscious level that we both know despite me calling him master, he isn’t in charge here, and never has been.

Instead of making me feel smug, like it would with any other man, it gives me a profound sense of humility and gratitude.

I make a silent vow that I’ll never hurt him, even if it comes down to a choice between that and hurting myself.

When he breaks the kiss, I say, “I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t be.”

“You seem upset.”

“Tough day at the office.”

His voice has a trace of sarcasm. Instinctively, I know he’s talking about that blood on his collar and whatever happened to get it there.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

He gazes down at me, stroking his hand over my hair. His expression is faintly amused. “Do you really want to hear?”

“If it will make you feel better, yes.”

He slowly shakes his head, then kisses me gently. “Just hearing you say that makes me feel better. Now let’s get you dressed. We’re out of here in thirty minutes.”

He bends to pull my panties and yoga pants back up my legs. I let him, resting my hands on his shoulders. When he’s got everything back in place, he tenderly kisses each of my breasts, then takes my face in his hands and kisses my mouth.

Gazing deep into my eyes, he says, “If you answer the door half-naked again, I won’t be pleased.”

“Oh. You talked to Kieran?”